The training was finally over.
Sakolomé had returned with Salomé and their two students, Wendy and Dan. Their tired yet bright faces said it all: the progress had been tough, but real.
That evening, Sakolomé's house rested in an atmosphere of repose and celebration. Nexura and Ramos had come to visit, bringing a few bottles and strange dishes whose scents filled the room. The long polished wooden tables had been laid out, the candles floated in the air, casting a golden light.
A simple evening, but sincere. Laughter, loud conversations, and drinks circulated. Even Sakolomé, usually so in control lately, let out a few muffled roars of laughter.
Yet a tension hung in the air. Someone was still to arrive.
Seated beside him, Nexura took advantage of a quiet moment to address the topic that had been on her mind.
— Sako, she said, crossing her arms, you mentioned that someone would replace you on your departure… the one who will teach the Nemesis system, that right?
— Exactly, he answered calmly, setting down his cup.
— Hm. I don't know… she said with a skeptical pout. He'll be as skilled as you, at least?
At that instant, a sound rang out.
Ding.
The doorbell had just announced someone's arrival.
— I'll open it ! Salomé announced, standing up with a playful smile at the corners of her lips.
Sakolomé looked at Nexura with a slight amused expression.
— Don't worry, he said. He is… very competent. Or rather: he will become so.
A few seconds later, Salomé reappeared in the doorway, her smile even wider.
— Look who just arrived!
And behind her, a loud voice rose:
— Hey! How's it going, everyone?
Bakuran had entered, strapbag slung over his shoulder, beaming. His keen gaze swept the room as if reclaiming his place in it. By his side stood Kai, arms crossed, a tight, seemingly disinterested, but his aura betrayed constant vigilance.
— You're finally here! exclaimed Sakolomé, visibly happy.
He stood up and went to hug Bakuran before turning to Nexura.
— Here's your future colleague. The one who will have the shoulders to teach Nemesis.
Then, fixing his gaze on Wendy and Dan, he added in a more solemn voice:
— And he… will be your new teacher.
The two remained frozen, almost intimidated. Wendy, wide-eyed, seemed fascinated by Bakuran's calm yet sharp presence.
Ramos burst out laughing.
— Still as solid as ever, my little Bakuran!
— Meh, he said, scratching his head. After all this time, I'm just trying not to rust!
Wendy leaned toward Sakolomé, intrigued:
— Master… is he also your brother?
He nodded, a slight smile at the corners of his lips.
— Yes. My little brother. And also Salomé's big brother.
Salomé, precisely, placed a hand on the shoulder of the second guest.
— And here is Kai Joron. An old friend of Sakolomé.
Kai remained silent, gaze turned away, body as still as a statue.
But Wendy could not help murmuring:
— He's handsome...
A playful, amused silence followed. Kai immediately averted his eyes, slightly blushing.
— Tsss… shut up, Salomé, he muttered, embarrassed, when she gave him a teasing pat on the shoulder.
— You can see you're liked! she replied, laughing.
And the whole table burst into general, frank, spontaneous laughter.
The hours drifted by slowly, between jokes, raised glasses, and recalling memories.
But behind these smiles, Sakolomé knew the calm would not last.
The evening had ended some time ago.
Laughter had faded, the house rested in a heavy quiet.
But Sakolomé could not seem to find calm.
Something, deep inside him, was off.
A diffuse feeling, a tightening in the chest, like a silent presence clinging to his shadow.
He finally got up and walked to the bathroom.
The neon flickered faintly as it turned on, casting a white, cold light on the tiles.
Sakolomé approached the sink, turned on the tap:
the water flowed with a constant murmur, almost soothing.
He leaned over, washed his face slowly, let the droplets run down his skin.
With his eyes closed, he breathed in deeply — and that was when it began.
A breath.
A voice barely perceptible, whispered inside his own head.
Indistinct words, blurred, as if someone spoke just behind him.
He suddenly jerked his head up, heart pounding.
The mirror reflected only his wet face, his dark brown locks plastered to his skin.
No one.
Nothing.
— What was that, he murmured, short of breath.
He shook his head, tried to reason with himself, then plunged his face back into the water.
But as soon as he closed his eyes again the whispers resumed, clearer, more insistent.
An unintelligible litany, both near and far at once, vibrating to his bones.
He straightened up abruptly, water dripping from his chin.
Still nothing. The void.
A shiver ran down his spine.
— Tsk… hallucinations, he muttered through his teeth, as if to convince himself.
He rinsed once more, dried his face with the back of his hand, then lifted his eyes to the mirror.
And there — his breath caught.
His reflection was no longer his.
In his place, a pale boy stood motionless.
skin deathly white, hair black as tar,
and above all… those eyes.
Red, gleaming, filled with infinite sadness.
For a moment, Sakolomé felt the temperature drop around him.
The whisper became an ominous echo:
« …Can you hear me, finally… ? »
He stepped back, his fists clenched, ready to react —
and suddenly, the reflection dissolved.
The mirror now reflected only his own pale, damp face.
Silence fell again.
Only the faucet continued to flow, monotonous,
as if nothing had happened.
Sakolomé got out of the shower, still unsettled by what he had just lived.
His heart beat hard, but not from fear: something deep inside him seemed to have awakened.
He pulled on a coat, opened the door, and went out for air.
The night was heavy.
A light wind blew between the trees, lifting wisps of silver fog.
The moon, high and pale, cast its cold light on the wet cobbles.
It must have been close to one o'clock in the morning.
Sakolomé walked slowly, hands in his pockets, head still full of questions.
Had he hallucinated?
That boy with the red eyes… was he the fruit of a crushing fatigue?
Or perhaps a real presence tied to his being?
The questions roamed without giving him a rest.
— Sakolomé.
The voice, behind him, resonated in the silence.
He turned around at once.
— Kai? he said, surprised. What are you doing outside at this hour?
Kai stepped forward slowly, hands in his pockets, calm but strange.
—I'll ask you the same.
Sakolomé lowered his head.
—I needed to think a little. Tomorrow… the quest begins.
— The quest, huh… Kai murmured, lifting his eyes to the sky.
His pupils shone with a brilliance not commonly seen.
— I hope that where we go, we will finally find answers. Because… this world, as it is, lies about too many things.
Sakolomé offered a tired smile.
— We will, I'm sure. After all, Oniyurei's imaginary world awaits us.
Kai nodded — a brief smile escaped him.
But suddenly, his expression froze.
His eyes widened, his aura began to tremble…
— Tch… dammit!
A violent breath cleaved the air.
Sakolomé did not have time to react: a fist crashed into him and knocked him to the ground with inhuman force.
— Kai?! he roared, getting to his feet. Have you gone mad?!
Kai did not answer. His gaze had grown hard, cold, full of hostility.
He rushed forward again, striking without restraint.
Sakolomé dodged just in time, stepping back, stunned.
— Damn it, what is wrong with you?! he yelled.
Kai roared:
— Shut up, impostor!
Sakolomé stood frozen.
— What?! But what are you saying?!
Another blow split the air. Sakolomé blocked it barely before being knocked over again.
He rolled to the side, half-raising, breath short.
— You're delusional, Kai! It's me, Sakolomé! What do you want, to kill me now?!
Kai, fists clenched, replied through his teeth:
— If you were Sakolomé… you wouldn't have that smell.
— Huh?!
— Wrong answer.
He sprang once more, ready to strike —
— Uh… guys?
The voice, soft but firm, cut the movement cleanly.
Kai stopped, muscles still tense.
Sakolomé turned his head.
Under the pale moonlight, a feminine silhouette stepped forward.
Her eyes, a bright yellow, pierced the darkness like two divine lanterns.
— Don't you think it's a bit late to be playing gladiators? said Salomé, arms crossed.
A slight smile, mocking and cold, curled her lips.
The wind made her violet hair dance.
Between Sakolomé and Kai, the tension froze like a crystal about to shatter.
Kai stepped forward, his eyes still fixed on Sakolomé.
His voice, raspy, cut through the silence:
— Stay where you are, Salomé. The one you see there… isn't your brother.
Salomé stopped, surprised.
Sakolomé, for his part, straightened abruptly, features tense:
— You're delusional, Kai! Don't stop with your nonsense?
Kai stared at him a moment longer, before his gaze suddenly shifted.
His anger faded, replaced by a nearly frightened confusion.
— Wait… Sakolomé?
He blinked as if something had just dissolved.
— Is it really you?
Sakolomé dusted off his tunic, jaws clenched.
— Of course it's me! I've been telling you that all along!
Kai stepped back, breath short.
— But still… when I looked at you a minute ago, it wasn't you.
It was… someone else.
Salomé, intrigued, moved closer.
— Someone else? What do you mean by that?
Kai drew a breath, seeking his words.
— It was… a Sakolomé, yes, but not the one I know.
His skin was deathly white, almost cadaverous.
The whites of his eyes were black. His hair, a deep black…
And his eyes… a vivid red, almost living, as if they were looking through you.
Salomé frowned.
— Huh? You must have hallucinated, Kai. That makes no sense.
But Sakolomé remained frozen.
Kai's words struck him with full force.
What he had just described matched exactly the silhouette of the mirror he had seen in the shower.
A shiver ran down his spine.
No, it wasn't a coincidence.
Something played with their perceptions — a hidden entity, invisible, muddling realities.
Salomé, worried, looked at him:
— Big brother… aren't you saying anything?
Sakolomé shook his head slowly, eyes empty.
— No… it's fine.
But his tone betrayed the opposite.
A heavy silence settled in, troubled only by the wind through the trees.
Kai, suddenly awkward, stepped forward.
— I'm sorry, Sakolomé. I… I don't know what came over me. I thought I saw a monster in your place.
Sakolomé raised a hand, cutting him off.
— You said… that this "me" had the skin white, almost cadaverous?
The two others stared at him, surprised by this new coldness.
— Yes, Kai replied, hesitating. That's right. Why?
Sakolomé lowered his eyes slowly.
An almost imperceptible smile brushed his lips, but his pupils trembled with an uneasy gleam.
— I see…
He lifted his head, his gaze lost in the darkness.
— To be honest… I saw the same thing.
Salomé widened her eyes.
— What?!
— In the shower, murmured Sakolomé. Just before exiting.
A reflection that wasn't mine.
He stared at me… exactly as you just described.
A long silence fell.
Even the wind seemed to have stopped.
Somewhere in the dark, an indistinct echo could be heard — a whisper, or perhaps a muffled laugh.